


What if this is all the love you ever get?

by drarryandharry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, angsty, being outed, literally I had a breakdown and wrote this, poor boys, the Prophet is a bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 14:16:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19831933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drarryandharry/pseuds/drarryandharry
Summary: When Draco arrived at the ministry for work, he was expecting to be there for more than 5 minutes. As soon as he saw the Daily Prophet on his desk, he knew that wouldn’t be the case. The headline read: Harry Potter: The Gay-Vior of the Wizarding World. Fuck.-Draco and Harry are photographed together in the Daily Prophet.-Title from the Snow Patrol song of the same name.





	What if this is all the love you ever get?

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly the characters aren’t mine, credit to jk, no profit made and all the other housekeeping.   
> I just love these boys.  
> At some point this might become a series, idk. We’ll see.   
> Hope everyone at least likes the story. If you leave kudos/comments I will be forever in your debt!

When Draco arrived at the ministry for work, he was expecting to be there for more than 5 minutes. As soon as he saw the Daily Prophet on his desk, he knew that wouldn’t be the case. The headline read:  _ Harry Potter: The Gay-Vior of the Wizarding World. _ Fuck. Underneath was the snazzy opening line “Harry Potter: the boy hero turned queer.” and several pictures of Harry and Draco from the weekend before in muggle London, laughing and kissing. Having a generally very pleasant afternoon. Those memories were absolutely ruined now. Draco felt his blood rushing through him, the adrenaline. The urge to protect someone he loved. 

Of course, Harry wasn’t the only one being attacked. Draco skimmed through the passage and it wasn’t looking great for him either. “Traitor Malfoy” and “Death eater scum” were pretty common names for him in the media, but “pureblood fag” was a new one. Not particularly creative though. 

He sat down at his desk, angry and defeated. Draco flipped the page and almost ripped it in the process. He was confronted with even more pictures and a post it note with Hermione’s handwriting, “Go home, he needs you.” written in her signature curly script. 

He was halfway out the door, paper in hand, either to comfort Harry or to go straight to the Prophet and tear every single one of their editors apart. He wasn’t sure which. On his way out of the ministry, he called Blaise, known for his influence in the world of the magical press. He was practically shouting down the phone, desperation obvious in his voice. “Blaise, have you-”

“Yes Draco, I’ve seen. I’ve already sent 7 furious owls, 3 howlers and 12 interns to the Daily Prophet’s office.” Blaise moved the phone away to shout instructions across his office. “Sorry. We’ll get it out of the papers. Now go home.” Blaise hung up the phone, and Draco apparated from an empty side street to their flat. 

He and Harry had been flatmates for a long time, and it was pretty common knowledge among their friends and family. They had decided not to tell anyone when they started sleeping together. When they started dating, they actively kept it a secret. Because they weren’t ready yet. Because they were afraid they would be judged. Because the press would have a field day, as had just been eloquently, and disgracefully, proven. They were falling in love on their own terms, neither of them brave enough to say it first. 

He burst through the door, and saw Harry curled up on their rather expensive leather sofa. Draco shut the door, and Harry jumped, wiping his eyes and hiding the tear soaked copy of the Prophet under a pillow. “What did you forget this time?” said Harry, his voice shaking. 

“I didn’t forget anything, except to check for cameras last weekend.” Draco reached under the cushion Harry was leaning on, and with a tap of his wand set the paper ablaze. They watched it burn to a pile of ash, which Draco promptly vanished. He sat cross legged on the floor, facing Harry, who still hadn’t made eye contact with him. 

“You need to go to work, I’ll be fine. You’ll get in trouble if…” 

Draco could hear the anxiety building in his chest. “Hermione told me to come home. Nobody’s getting in trouble except the editors Harry.” Draco very rarely used Harry’s given name, opting for Potter or Darling, depending on the situation. 

Harry sat up, tearing himself away from the cushion. “And she isn’t upset we didn’t tell her?”

“I don’t think so. You know her, she won’t have time to be upset between worrying about you and planning revenge.” Draco moved onto the sofa, tucking the stray bits of Harry’s hair back behind his ear. 

“What about your friends? Blaise must have seen by now.”

“They’ll get over it, just like your friends will. They care about us, they wouldn’t abandon us over something like this. Okay?” Draco was trying to convince Harry, but he’d be lying if he said he totally believed what he was saying. 

“And your parents are going to be horrified, they aren’t exactly my biggest fans.” It’s true, when Harry and Draco moved in together, Narcissa had only just been able to hold Lucius back. ‘They’re going to kill me,’ thought Draco, but he’d have to cross that bridge when he came to it. 

Draco had successfully fixed Harry’s hair, but continued playing with it anyway. “I don’t care what they think, I only care about you.” Draco said it without thinking, the worst part of that being that it was actually true. 

“They wrote about you too. I didn’t read it all but it didn’t look good,” said Harry, leaning onto Draco’s shoulder. 

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before Harry, they aren’t saying anything new. We’re going to get past this.” Draco rested his head on Harry’s and pulled him closer. 

There was a pause, where neither of them were talking. They rarely sat this close to each other, and never in silence. Physical intimacy without sex isn’t something either of them were used to, and they were still learning. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this. You could’ve just dated some muggle guy and they’d have left you alone. They only hate you cause it’s me.”

“You know that’s not true. They’d insult me anyway. I’m an easy target. There aren’t that many gay pureblood traitors,” said Draco.

Harry sat up, looked Draco directly in the eye and wiped another tear away. “But if you weren’t with me they wouldn’t have the photos. They wouldn’t know.”

“They’d find out eventually, they always do.” Draco accioed the tissues from the other room, and put the box between them. “Either way, I’d rather let the Prophet dedicate the front page to humiliating me than give you up. I risked my life for us Harry, I’m not giving up on everything we’ve got over a journalist with no decency.”

Harry couldn’t find anything to say to that, so he leaned into Draco. It was a soft kiss, not sex or desire. Trust, comfort and hope. Harry pulled every ounce of bravery he had inside him as he pulled away, trying to find his voice. “I love you.”

Draco kissed him back, stealing a little bit of gryffindor courage from Harry with every touch. “It’s very mutual.”

The box of tissues lay between them for hours, forgotten.


End file.
